burst | to be so full as almost to break open

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3/13/17

"YOU AVOIDED ME all weekend," I hear Asher's deep rumbling echo from behind me. My whole body pauses at the sound of his rough voice. His voice hits me in ways that still confuse me. He never affected me before and now it's like he owns pieces of me I didn't even know existed. Ignites parts of me that I didn't know could feel this way.

I continue to stuff a few folders and my textbook into my backpack before turning to face the dark eyes I've refused to let myself get lost in the last few days.

"I did," I easily agree holding my head high as I hoist the strap of my backpack onto my right shoulder. I went as far as to lock my bedroom window so when he tried to climb in after his date with my best friend he couldn't. He couldn't slide into bed next to me and whisper lies in my ears. Lies that I'm beginning to desperately want to become the truth.

My eyes squeeze shut as I take a deep breath. I can still hear the knocks on the window. The way he called out my name as quietly as possible in the dark midnight air, urging me to let him in. But I pushed it all away, pushed him away and stuffed headphones into my ears. I turned the volume up as loud as it would go and blocked him out. Because I have to stop this, I have to end whatever we are.

"Why?" Asher asks a bit harshly. His words force my eyes to flash open and focus on him. He's mad I realize in one look at his clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, and balled fists. Mad I ignored him. Mad I pushed him away. Mad I'm not letting him into my heart so easily anymore. Mad I'm not being the fun, new, shiny toy he can play with whenever he chooses.

"Because this is over," I say with a shrug as if it's that simple. But my heart, oh how my heart beats with angry protests. My heart doesn't want me to stop. My heart wants me to continue to fall for a man who isn't good for me. My heart wants to burn for him until it becomes the ash that feeds his very soul. Because my heart wants to give him a chance to change, to become the person I need.

But my head knows the truth, and she's fighting back.

"Why?" he pushes whilst taking a step away from the front door of the classroom.

"I'm not doing this," I tell him as I begin to walk towards the other door across the classroom and away from Asher. Away from his heat that I know once it's near I'll drown in. I need to keep this resolve. I need to stay away from him. I need to think of my best friend and of my future. And my future doesn't involve Asher Lawton.

"Like hell Maeleigh," he growls his loud footsteps resonating from behind me. "You're not walking away," he says and before I know it my backpack is torn from my body and chucked aside and I'm being dragged towards the small storage room in the classroom. A small crowded space, dark, and lined with shelves filled with supplies and old textbooks.

His fingers burn into my skin as he pulls me along with him. His strength scares and turns me on at the same time and in some twisted way I want more of this. Of his fingers bruising the pale skin of my forearm and his nails pricking my soft skin. I want his anger, because I'm angry. I'm pissed that I want him. I'm pissed that I can't have him. And most of all I'm pissed that I'm letting myself fall for someone who's only going to hurt me.

He won't, my heart whispers.

He will, my brain protests.

The door slams shut behind us as the overhead lights flicker on. The motion of the door activates them. School is over, but that doesn't mean we won't be caught. The thought excites a dark side of me that only awakens when Asher is near me. A side that has grown to like the rough edge he gives my once mundane life.

I attempt to pull out of his punishing grip but he pushes me up against the one empty wall instead. His stormy grey eyes darken as they grow wild and take me in. Take in my long simple brown hair, my worn cropped sweatshirt, torn boyfriend jeans, and dirty converse. I blend in, I don't stand out. And yet as Asher's gaze swipes over me I feel as if even in a crowded hallway he would spot me.

Because the way he looks at me, the way his hands shift to my hips and push my body into his. The way his skin vibrates underneath my own touch as my fingers glide up his chest. This isn't a feeling that just settles in the background and remains simply there, no this is a feeling fighting to break free and consume everything in its path.

Even if it kills me in the process.

I drop my hands from his chest with a shake of my head. This only ends one way if I don't leave right now, and while my lips tingle with the need to feel the pressure of his, I know I have to get out of this closet. "Let me go Asher," I tell him with a deep sigh.

He moves his hands up my body until they settle under the hem of my top and land on the bare skin of my waist. His body presses into mine, his body still tense and shaking with anger, but also as if he can't stay away from me. "No," he fights. "Not until you tell me what's going on," he says as his eyes lock on mine. A gasp lodges in my throat at a single emotion that swirls through his stormy eyes. Desperation. It's there, it's small but filling him so much he doesn't know what to do with himself. Has he ever felt this? Has he ever felt this out of control of a situation? "Why you shut me out," he finishes his words breaking at the end.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips. "You know why," I respond, fighting against the emotions that threaten to seep into my skin the more he holds me, touches me.

His grip on me tightens, and my stomach dips as my body begins to respond to his heated touch and gentle caress of his thumbs. "Mae," he pushes out my nickname showing me how on edge he truly is, how under his skin I really am.

My body shouldn't warm at that thought. A smirk shouldn't be trying to form on my lips. I shouldn't like the power I have with him. It's as if he's poisoned me with one touch, and now I'm drunk off the dark sensation he gives me. The power, the games, the back and forth. It's not healthy, and yet here I am liking that I'm the one making him feel this way.

I instantly revolt at the dark thoughts, and push them away. Far away into a box so it won't ever be reopened, because that's not who I am. I'm better than what Asher is making me and that thought strikes a white-hot rage within me. I lift my hands and shove them against his chest suddenly wanting his hands off of me. "You're dating my friend," I tell him, continuing to shove him, though he refuses to move a muscle. "My best friend, and she likes you so much and I can't watch it and see it everyday without becoming beyond—"

"Jealous," he finishes for me cockily. Not only does he cut me off with his words, but with his hands. He tears them from my body and wraps them around my wrists obviously tired of me hitting him. He pushes them against the wall behind me as my body follows and slams into the wall rattling the shelves nearby. His body cages me in as a dangerous smile spreads over his handsome face.

"God, you're an asshole," I groan out tilting my head back with a small thud against the cool wall.

A small chuckle escapes his lips, and I feel the heat of it fan across my neck causing my whole body to shudder. My eyes fall to see Asher place a small open-mouthed kiss to the base of my neck. "Nothing new," he tells me with a small shrug before he places another kiss, higher.

A small breathy sigh flutters from my lips as he places another gentle kiss on my jawline this time. His lips are so close, just mere centimeters away, and everything I want. So I turn my face to the right so I'm staring at the shelves instead of him. "And yet extremely annoying," I counter, though my words don't come out as strong as I want them.

Asher drops one of his hands from my wrists only to grab my chin and force me to look at him. "Don't deny it Maeleigh," he says, emphasizing my name as he lets it roll off his tongue. "You like me," he whispers, letting his lips barely graze my own as embers begin to spread throughout my entire body in search of more.

I'm grasping at straws now. Attempting to hold my resolve when I only want to let him do dirty things to me in this supply closet. "Whatever," I respond halfheartedly.

He scoffs. "I'll take that as a yes," he responds as his fingers spread so now his whole hand is cupping the side of my face. His thumb swipes over the supple skin of my flushed cheek as his other hand continues to hold my left arm in place against the wall.

Quietness settles around us as his eyebrows furrow with a dash of confusion and his hand continues to hold my face gently. He watches me as if he expects something to change, something to push him to a conclusion.

Asher then drops both of his hands from me and takes a step back. "You told me to date her," he points out as frustration begins to overtake him.

I swallow the dry lump that's beginning to form in my throat. "I know," I agree.

"You pushed me towards her," he says as he stabs his pointer finger in my direction.

"I know," I repeat as my body sags against the wall.

"You said you didn't care, that this was only physical," he continues pointing out all the ways I had a hand in creating whatever fucked up relationship we sit in now. I helped create us, I won't deny that. But that doesn't mean I have to like him and my best friend together. Like seeing them hang all over each other in the hallways at school, and kiss at parties.

"I know!" I snap yelling at him hating that he's right and that I pushed him even further into a relationship with my best friend. And now I can't even watch them together without wanting to throw a punch and cry all at the same time.

He steps forward into my space once again letting his body heat overwhelm and devour me in one foul swoop. "Then tell me to choose you," he states simply. "Tell me how you really feel," he pushes, crowding me back against the wall. My heart stops, freezes, and then it swells so much I feel like my chest might burst open all together. And then as a stuttered breath escapes me my heart beats once again, but too fast. As if I'm suddenly in overdrive. My mind is racing and still trying to process his words.

I want to tell him everything. I want to tell him to choose me. But my head steps in and stops me. "I don't feel anything," I lie. My throat and eyes burn with the fib that just left me. Burn with the need to scream how I really feel for this stupid man.

"Lies," he calls me out immediately, not taking my words.

"Fine!" I shout. He wants to know how I feel about him, I'll tell him how I really feel. "I hate you," I say brokenly. Because I do hate him. I hate him for the way he makes me feel. I hate him for making me forget about the people I love. I hate him for bringing out new sides of me, for changing me. I hate him because I can't have him.

Darkness casts over his face. "I hate you too," he rumbles.

"Why?" I question with a whisper.

"Because I was fine without you!" he declares roughly. "I knew what was next for me in life because it's been planned out since I was born. My life isn't anything interesting, it's all a set layer of plans and rules that nobody but me sees," he spills showing me parts of him he's never shared. Cutting himself open and bleeding out in front of me, making me hate him even more because at this moment I don't hate him at all. "But then you happened," he admits his dark eyes locked on me intensely.

I shake my head weakly. "I didn't do anything," I murmur out.

He leans down so his eyes are level with my own, his lips so close to mine. "But you did," he tells me. "You pushed me and fought me and challenged me in ways no one ever does. You call me out on my shit and you—"

His words are so much I can't help but cut him off. "I what?" I ask almost salivating at the need to know his next words.

"You named me," he says, his velvet voice filling my veins and lighting me on fire from within. "And when that name comes out of your mouth when I'm touching you or kissing you. It makes me want to tear this world apart and shove away anyone who stops me from having more," he finishes as his hands once again find my body, as if they are drawn to me.

And that's when I realize how deep in this I really am. Asher Lawton isn't just empty vapor around me like he once was. He isn't going around me, oblivious to each other's presence. He's the smoke that fills my lungs, and it burns, but I crave it like no other addiction.

He isn't clear and lifeless, he is dark and dangerous and a warning signal. But I don't step away, I step closer, unable to let my head takeover. My heart and body win, because he's infiltrated me and I want more. So much more.

The reasonable side of me knows this has to end. Knows this isn't long term with senior year drawing to a close in a couple short months. But the way I hate him, and he hates me, isn't hate at all. And we both know that, and my heart begins to race at the idea that someone as wild and imperfectly perfect as Asher could fall for me.

"So you hate me," I whisper, raising my hands to hook around his neck and draw him in closer, finally giving in to what we both knew would happen as soon as he dragged me into this closet.

He nods once. "I hate you," he agrees, leaning his body into mine, and just like that the overhead lights time out and the room floods with darkness.

"Good," I breathe before his lips slam over mine.

Kissing Asher is unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It's all consuming, it's drowning, it's needy and hot all wrapped into one. It steals every breath I have away and fills my lungs with a fire that only Asher can match. Only he can take and understand, and he gives it right back.

The kiss morphs into something darker, almost animalistic, as if our bodies couldn't take the time apart from each other. His lips move against mine with fervor, his tongue tasting me, and his teeth sneaking out to bite my bottom lip. Drawing me in and pushing me away all at once, the perfect game of cat and mouse. I could kiss him for hours and never get tired of it. He's completely addictive, and it's honestly terrifying how much I ache for him. How much I think of him. He's in my veins and burning me slowly but thoroughly.

Asher's hands tug at my top until he can yank it over my head breaking the drugging kiss. His hands continue to make quick work of my bra as well so I'm now half naked in front of him. His body is all over mine in an instant. One hand in my hair tugging at my long brown locks, lips kissing, sucking, biting down my neck, and the other hand on my chest causing a deep moan to fall from my lips.

His teeth skim my collarbone as his lips make their decent. "Do you still hate me?" he questions cheekily.

I let my hands fall back to his neck and dig my nails into his skin loving the feeling of the crescent shaped marks I leave behind. A groan falls from his lips at my actions and only spurs him on. He nips at my breasts before kissing the tips and causing a swarm of dizzying desperate need to grow between my legs. It's as if one kiss from him and I'm done for. He strikes the match and I burn for him, fast, hard, bright.

"Always," I groan in response as his hands begin to tug on the button to my jeans.

He slowly lowers the zipper so his hand can slide into my pants. He cups my heat causing my hips to jerk in his hand. My whole body shaking, raging, flaming for more. "Say it," he demands in my ear.

Rockets shoot off in my body as I begin to become nothing more than a puddle of desire in his arms. "Ash," I comply promptly saying the name I gave him. I give him what he needs just as his fingers push my underwear aside and he gives me what I need.

"When are you going to let me in here Maeleigh?" he grunts with frustration as he strums my body with his fingers bringing me higher and higher.

My body flushes even more at his words, because I want him more than he knows. I dream about us together. I play it over and over in my head when I let myself succumb to my dirty fantasies in the shower. My heart races at the idea, the blood in my veins boils for him, and the space between my thighs his fingers reside in pulses at the fierce need for him to fill me. To complete me in a way that I know will ruin me.

"Never," I whimper as he hits a spot that has me seeing stars already.

He leans so his lips are at my ear letting his teeth sink into the lobe before speaking. "Are you a virgin?" he inquires as his hot breath heats my needy flesh.

I turn my head so my hooded eyes are locked on his onyx ones. "Do I feel like one?" I respond with words I didn't even expect myself to say. Words I would never say before Asher came into my life and dragged me closer to hell.

His jaw tightens and I see his eyes flare with lust. "Don't play games with me," he states harshly. His hand never once stops playing with me, pushing into me, never yields in bringing me pleasure.

I wrap my arms tighter around his neck and draw him in close as I feel myself hitting the peak as flames lick at my body. "But I love playing your games," I groan as I crash his lips into mine and fall over the edge all at once.

Asher's lips move against mine almost as if they're punishing me. His mouth smothers my loud cries as he eats them up and uses them as fuel to continue to play with my body until I'm nothing more than a quivering mess.

His forehead presses against mine as we both take a moment to calm down. Our chests heave and heavy pants fall from both of us. My body is humming from the powerful high he just gave me. His fingers are magic, his tongue even better. My thighs squeeze together at the idea of his devilish tongue. How can he make me feel this good while also pissing me off?

"Don't lock your window ever again," he states before pressing his lips to mine. Slow. Steady. Perfect.

I reach for his top when a loud noise stops me. Stops us.

We both pull apart abruptly at the shrill noise of my phone going off in my back pocket.

I step away from Asher's grip to pull out my phone and see it's Brooklyn calling me. "Shit," I groan realizing I completely forgot about our plans. I pause not knowing what to do at this moment. Should I answer it or let it go to voicemail?

"What?" Asher questions. "Ignore it," he tells me as the call goes to voicemail and he draws me back into him. He presses me up against his body so I can feel exactly what I would be leaving him to deal with on his own if I walked away right now.

I pull away not caring he didn't get off. "I forgot I'm supposed to meet Brooks to work on our project," I tell him as I begin to pull myself together. Button my jeans, find my bra and top in the dark room and slip them on. I run my hand through my hair a few times to tame the mess it is.

"So," Asher shrugs. "Reschedule," he says as if me blowing off my friend is no big deal. "Come over to my place," he suggests while tugging me back into his arms.

I won't lie and say a part of me didn't pause and think about it. Didn't think about how appealing it sounded to go back to Asher's big house and mess around with him some more. But the larger piece of me knows I can't do that to Brooklyn, especially with the due date coming up on our project.

"No," I tell him adamantly. My phone begins to ring again and I know I need to get out of this closet so I slide around Asher and push the door open. My eyes squint at the sudden flood of bright white light.

I go to swipe my finger against the screen to answer Brooklyn's call when I see him standing in front of me. By my forgotten backpack.

His big brown eyes widen even more as they take in the image of me and Asher leaving a supply closet flushed and with rumpled clothes.

I shift uncomfortably under the disapproving gaze of my friend. "I was just going to answer," I attempt to play everything off as if I haven't been caught red-handed. As if Brooklyn's eyes don't kill me with how much hurt resides within them. As if my chest isn't flooded with bitter regret and self-hatred. "Um...we were just...." I trail unable to find the right words. The right lie.

"Looking for a book," Asher tosses out the lame excuse with a smirk lifting his lips. I inwardly groan and my hand twitches at the idea of hitting him right now.

"Yeah," I agree with a slight wince. "Looking for a book," I say hating the way Brooklyn is looking at me right now. Hating the way my friend is judging me. "What are you doing here?" I question loathing how it sounds. As if he's in the wrong, when we both know he's not.

He clears his throat and finally tears his gaze off of me and Asher letting his eyes fall to the ground. "The band sometimes uses the music room to practice and I was going to grab the assignment book from here when I saw your backpack and got worried," he says, his voice steady and giving away no emotion.

But as he lifts his gaze to lock on me, I know. "Brooks—" I start but he doesn't let me finish.

"Your shirt is on backwards," he states as his eyes flash with an emotion I've never seen aimed at me from him. Disappointment.

He then turns and leaves the room without another word.

Silence falls awkwardly around Asher and myself as shame fills my bones, and the all too familiar taste of guilt flows through my veins. I flash ice cold with fear of losing my friend and my fingers turn numb with the reality of what just happened.

We were caught.

Shit, what if he tells Francesca?

"So my place?" Asher teases attempting to break the ice, but it only infuriates me.

Bile rises in my throat as I aim a murderous glare at him. "Screw you," I tell him before picking up my stranded backpack and running after Brooklyn.

As tears prick the back of my eyes I know, I have to fix this.